


Petrakardia

by AuditoryCheesecake, uniqueinalltheworld



Series: Sea-Stone Heart [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Angst, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Heroic Quests, I'm Sorry, M/M, Merdorian, You heard me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:35:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6898828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuditoryCheesecake/pseuds/AuditoryCheesecake, https://archiveofourown.org/users/uniqueinalltheworld/pseuds/uniqueinalltheworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greece is teeming with monsters and heroes to kill them, but not all heroes get their stories told.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Petrakardia

“And what,” said a deep voice behind him, “is this?”

Dorian sighed. Caught again. He stood and turned to face the man who’d interrupted him. The waves lapped at their feet, though he’d been certain he was far above the tide line. The water had followed Poseidon up onto the land like a dog.

“The usual, my lord.” It didn’t do to disrespect a god to his face. “Altering the fabric of the world, laughing in the face of the natural order of life, trying to change the tides.”

“Do not take me for a fool, Dorian.”

“Never, my lord.”

Poseidon sighed and looked across the dunes and fields towards Olympus. “You may as well try to change the tides. It’s as likely as this son of Zeus ever setting foot on our sands again.”

Dorian bowed his head, but didn’t respond. 

“I know my brother’s get, Dorian. He is heroic, but a hero is not always a good man.”

“This one is.”

“Yes, he could have taken Hera’s curse as an excuse to rampage like the animal she made him resemble. He could have been locked away in a labyrinth like that other one.”

Dorian bristled, and Poseidon saw, but said nothing. “By the other one, You mean your own curse on that Minoan king?” He was skirting dangerously close to blasphemy, but he didn’t care. “Times are changing, my lord.”

“Indeed.” Poseidon settled a heavy hand on Dorian’s shoulder. He smelled like salt. “And now it is time for you to return to your duties at court.” Dorian didn’t move. “Come away from this foolishness, young one. You are not some water nymph to pine your days away over a callous demigod. You deserve better.”

“You’ve never even met him.” Dorian walked with him back towards the sea. “He could be worthy, my lord.”

Poseidon glanced sidelong at him as the waves lapped at their knees. “Perhaps it’s time that I did.”

 

The court of Poseidon did not quite rival the halls of Mount Olympus, but it was grand all the same. The floors were decorated in mosaics, the walls in iridescent shells and pearls. Wide and open, the water between the walls was clear and warm and as breathable as air. The nymphs were beautiful and the tritons stern. If the Iron Bull was disconcerted by the miles of ocean above his head, he did not show it. He stood before Poseidon’s throne with his axe planted on the stones between his feet. Forged by Hephaestus as a reward for completing the first three tasks Zeus had set him, it shimmered the same as the pearls in the light that infused the palace.

He had done acceptable obeisance to the god, but was confident enough to border on cocky. He was fascinating to the members of the court, and he knew it. He’d lost an eye in a fight against his half-brother Heracles, and injured his leg sailing with the Argonauts. Hephaestus had forged a brace for it in the same metal as his massive axe. He was tall, broad and wore his scars with pride. Heroes were not a rare breed, but he was a strapping example of the type.

He had come for a task.

Dorian stood resolutely beside the throne, hand tight around the shaft of his trident. He regretted wearing the ornamental armour that marked him as captain of the god’s honor guard. Perhaps he’d allowed the Bull to think him a low ranking triton the first time they’d met, but if the fool didn’t take his eyes from Dorian and listen when the god was talking, he was a good as dead. He might not realize the importance of making a good first impression here, but Dorian did.

Cremisius, the Iron Bull’s chariot driver, extolled his friend’s prowess and presented Poseidon with a drinking cup made from the horn of a golden ram of Apollo, the Iron Bull’s staunchest ally among the gods. Poseidon gestured for Dorian to bring him the gift, and the man’s eye’s narrowed when he recognized Dorian’s face. They had traveled together for a year in the Bull’s company, and not become more than civil before the end.

“Nephew,” said Poseidon, and that was a good sign, “I have been watching your progress under my brother’s instruction. I have, at times, sent you aid in the form of my captain and courier, Dorian. I think it is time that I set you a task of my own, that you may repay the gracious help I have given you.”

“You honor me, my lord.” The Iron Bull bowed; not low.

“This task will be straightforward, but it will not be simple. There is no fetching and carrying, no riddles, no distracting youths or ladies to waylay you.” A titter of amusement rushed through the court like a wave. Dorian’s cheeks burned. “You will do this for me, nephew: you will slay Medusa and her monsters. You will bring me proof of this deed, and I shall reward you richly.”

It was not, perhaps, so unusual and impossible a task. It had been set to other heroes by other gods before. Of course, none of them had succeeded. The island of the Gorgons was littered with the broken remains of lesser heroes, turned to stone.

“I shall serve you gladly my lord.” No one except Dorian seemed the least bit concerned. “I will be victorious.”

“We will see, nephew. We will see. Tonight, we feast to your luck.”

 

“This is madness!” Dorian was seated to the Iron Bull’s right, having given up his customary place at Poseidon's side to honor the hero. It gave him an excellent opportunity to berate the Iron Bull. He should have known better than to let Poseidon set the task! “He’s just using you for his own ends, he doesn’t truly expect you to succeed. And do you think Apollo will help you with this after you’ve given away his gift?”

“He’s right this time Chief, much as I hate to admit it.” Cremisius stood behind the Iron Bull’s chair with a carafe of wine.

“The two of you, worse than a pack of mothers,” the Bull laughed, opening a clam. 

“Mothers don’t travel in packs,” Dorian muttered.

The Iron Bull laughed again, and curled his arm around Dorian’s shoulder. An impressive feat, considering his pauldrons were made of spiny chiton. “I missed your sharp tongue, big guy.”

Dorian scowled and flushed, but didn’t try to remove the Iron Bull’s arm. “It will be sharper yet if you don’t find some way to remedy your foolishness.”

“I’m counting on it,” he said with that slow smile that always made heat curl in Dorian’s gut. “Come to my rooms tonight,” he whispered, leaning in to speak in Dorian’s ear. “Help me strategize.”

“Ugh,” Krem interjected.

“No, really.” The Bull emptied his goblet and held it out to his friend. “I need a plan of attack.”

 

Dorian slipped into the Iron Bull’s borrowed solar through a window. One advantage of living in the ocean was that you didn’t need to use stairs and hallways if you didn’t really want to.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come,” Krem said from the other side of the room where he was patching a tear on a pair of trousers. His own, judging by the fact that they were a sensible brown rather than garish yellow or purple. “Sorta thought you might have given his lordship the idea to get back at the chief for leaving you on that beach.”

“That isn’t quite how it happened.” It wasn’t too far off, but he felt compelled to defend the Bull anyways. Who knew why.

“‘Course not.” Krem gestured to the couch beside his. “Take off your tail and sit down, it weirds me out.”

It felt strange to walk on two legs underwater, but Dorian complied. His chiton was long enough to cover him, though his armor wouldn’t have. “Where is the Iron Bull?” he asked.

“Rediscovering his love of mirrors, probably. We don’t get accommodations like this often.”

The Iron Bull came through the door then, delighted to see Dorian. “I know exactly what I need to defeat Medusa,” he said as he sat down, “Dorian, would the god allow me to take every mirror in the palace?”

“No,” said Dorian. “I don’t believe he would.”

“What about just one? A small round one.” He crowded onto the couch Dorian was sitting on, despite the empty one on Krem’s other side. Dorian sighed and made room.

“And what would you do with this mirror?”

“Attach it to my shield, hide behind the shield, see if looking at themselves turns the Gorgons to stone too.” It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had.

“Surely they’ve seen their own reflections in ponds or rivers? Or looked at each other?”

“Have you got any better ideas?” the Iron Bull asked, and both Dorian and Krem were forced to admit that no, they didn’t. “Then that’s what I’ll do. Now, let’s eat. Get that jerky out of the packs, Krem. I’m already tired of seafood.”

“Ungrateful,” Dorian laughed.

Krem left them alone eventually, going to “check that the horses weren’t being fed seaweed.” They were descendants, many times over, of the Hippokampoi so Dorian didn’t think they’d really mind, but he appreciated the gesture all the same.

“Don’t look so worried,” the Iron Bull told him. He hadn’t moved since he sat down. If anything, he’d shifted closer on the couch. “I’ve fought plenty of monsters.”

Dorian sighed and leaned against him, taking some small comfort in having the Bull’s wide scarred arm around his waist again, pulling him closer. “I suppose I should be grateful that he didn’t require you to fight them alone. At least Krem and I will be able to help you.”

The Iron Bull tensed. “About that.”

Dorian turned to glare at him. “You’re not leaving me alone again!” He refused to let his voice betray anything except anger. “I can help you, Bull. I can fight, but I can also cast spells-- I could make you invisible, I could find a way to put them to sleep--”

“Dorian,” Bull took Dorian’s face in his hands and met his gaze steadily. “I have to do this alone. It’s a… condition that I agreed to.”

“Who imposed it?” He asked.

“Poseidon, of course. When he invited me to his court.”

“When did he do that?” Dorian would have been part of any official trip out of the palace waters.

“A week ago. He came out of the ocean while we were camped at a beach and offered me a wager.”

“Lord Poseidon doesn’t wager,” Dorian said faintly.

“He did this time. If I complete his tasks with no aid from gods or mortals, he will release you from your position in his court.” He smiled at Dorian and stroked his cheek. “You could come travel with me and the boys again. For good.”

Dorian was speechless. He blinked at the Bull and tried to understand. “What if you fail?”

“Well, I’d probably be dead anyways, so that doesn’t really matter.”

“It would matter to me!” Dorian said, indignant.

“But would you want to come with me? If I do succeed, I mean. He said you would be free to choose, and wouldn’t begrudge your choice.”

“I-- would, yes.” The Bull grinned, the corner of his good eye crinkling. “Though for the record, I don’t like being treated like a pawn in some game, or a trophy of some sort.”

“He’s a god, Dorian, that’s the only way they know how to treat mortals.”

“I mean by you.”

Bull paused then. “You’re right. I'm sorry. But I’m not really competing to win you, just to give you another choice. To prove myself worthy of you.”

“Of me?”

“Yeah. You, and your trident and your freaky sea magic.”

“I’m worth risking your life over?”

Bull kissed him then, like he had on countless beaches and battlefields in the year they’d spent together. “A thousand times. Orpheus has nothing on me.”

 

Krem was allowed to drive the Iron Bull’s chariot to the island south of the Gorgon’s home. Dorian was not allowed to leave the palace waters for the duration of the trial. “Three weeks,” Poseidon said.

“I will not fail, my lord,” the Iron Bull responded, and they left, the Bull glancing back at Dorian only once.

Dorian watched every day for their return, every minute that he wasn’t required at lord Poseidon’s side. One week passed, and Dorian figited.

Two weeks, and he was snapping at anyone who talked to him.

Three weeks, and no sign. Perhaps, he thought desperately, it’ll just take them a day or two to return. He couldn’t have failed. He couldn’t have.

Three weeks and three days after Krem and the Iron Bull had left, Dorian went to Poseidon, hands empty in supplication. “Please, my lord. Do you know if he’s alive?”

“He has not set foot off the island since he stepped on,” Poseidon said. He looked both apologetic and vindicated, in the ways that gods did when mortals failed to live up to their boasts. Dorian’s blood boiled and his heart beat like Hephaestus's hammer. This was his fault. “I am sorry, my child. But if he could not accomplish this one task, how could he truly be worthy of you?”

It would cost Dorian his life to rage at the god the way he wanted to.

He turned and left the throne room, Poseidon’s heavy sigh following him down the hall.

 

Dorian swam hard. He had his trident strapped to his back and a determination fueled by the ice in the veins. He would take his revenge on _someone_. If the Gorgons killed him as well, all the better. Wearing armor slowed him, his trident slowed him, the very currents of the ocean seemed to conspire against him, but he refused to stop. He passed by the island where Krem and the rest of Bull's cadre was camped and rode a wave onto the Gorgon’s beach.

He stepped onto the sand with his weapon in one hand and magic crackling in the other. He didn’t get far. 

At first, he hoped desperately that the Bull was simply lying on the hillside for some idiotic reason that would make sense in his stupid, heroic mind. He drew closer, trident raised, listening for the sounds of the monsters who lived on the island. The Iron Bull’s skin was stony gray, his axe abandoned by his side, its razor edge gleaming. A spider scurried across his chest.

Dorian knelt slowly beside him, touched a trembling hand to his cheek. His skin was warm, like stone that had been lying in the sun, and not like the warm leather softness that Dorian treasured. His one eye was open, hard and fierce, his teeth bared slightly. It was not a beautiful expression, but it was one that Dorian knew well. He dashed away the tears that began to well in his eyes.

This was his fault. He should never have let him leave alone.

He put a hand over Bull’s heart, knowing he’d feel nothing but rock under his hand. It still hurt. He pressed his lips to Bull’s stony forehead, to Bull’s lips, and let the tears fall as the sun slid lower towards the horizon. He knelt beside Bull, ignoring hunger and thirst, until it rose again.

Then he stood and walked into the sea. He swam not towards Poseidon's palace, or towards Mount Olympus. He set his path toward the mouth of the river Styx, the boundary of Hades’s realm. He clutched his trident and magic close.

Orpheus had nothing on him.

**Author's Note:**

> Plot bunny spawned from the very first image in [this photoset](http://tuherrus.tumblr.com/post/144566642687/i-was-gonna-remake-just-one-little-mermaid-thing-i) by the talented tuherrus. And then it went Places.
> 
> Say hi to U at [Eugenideswalksintoabar](http://eugenideswalksintoabar.tumblr.com) and A at [Acheesecakewrites](http://acheesecakewrites.tumblr.com)


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